BOMB: A Day in the Life of Spencer Shrike

by JA Huss

  “Ronnie—” But I have nothing to say. “I didn’t know that, no. I thought you liked it. It’s art.”

  “Art?” She laughs and then the tears spill out. “Art? It’s a fucking tattoo shop, you dumbass! I went to school for four years to study art and three years later I trace line drawings on skin. I have to cover myself head to toe in personal protection equipment because I am obsessed with the idea that I’ll contract hepatitis through some innocuous cut on my arm. Did you ever once ask me why I cover the room in plastic?”

  She stops her rant to let me think about this. Have I? “I don’t need to ask, Ronnie. I know why.”

  “Why? Tell me why, then, if you’re so fucking smart.”

  “You hate the blood and—”

  “Wrong.” She cuts me off. “That’s not why. Do you realize no one—no one,” she reiterates—“has ever asked me why I cover the room in plastic?”

  I move towards her to bring her in my arms. She struggles against me but I’m so much bigger, it’s hardly a problem. I wrap her up and pull her close to my chest so I can lean down in her ear and whisper, “You cover the room in plastic to protect people, Veronica. I’ve always known that was the reason.”

  She starts to cry and I just hold her close. This is an end-of-the-line meltdown my little Ronnie is having. She’s good and strung out. Bad.

  “I don’t want to go there anymore, Spencer. I need this, OK? I need this so fucking bad. I can’t think straight when I’m at work. All I see is the blood. And I finally have a chance to make a real change. This banker, Spencer. He’s my chance. Please don’t ruin it for me.”

  We stand there in silence for a few moments. I’m not enough for her right now, I can see that now. I can’t give her what she needs because of my own stupid mistakes. This is her personal struggle and it’s got nothing to do with me. “What do you want me to do, Ronnie?” And even though I already know what she’s gonna say, it hurts me so fucking bad when the words finally come out.

  “Leave me alone, Spencer. Just go. Leave me alone.”

  I swallow hard and shake my head. She doesn’t try and pull away, she gives me this moment at least. “Veronica, if that’s what you need, I’ll go. But before I do, I’d like to have my say too.” She stays silent so I push forward. “The day I saw you, my life started. My chest swelled with this feeling. A feeling I’d never felt before. When I watched you that first week before I made my move in art class, I realized something. I realized that the day I saw you my heart started to beat a whole new way. It was like all these years I had no idea what my heart was for, and then bam—you were there in front of me. And by the time I followed you to art class that day we got together, I had finally figured out what it was.”

  I blow out a long burst of air, not sure I should even be telling her this.

  “Say the words, Spencer,” she pleads through her soft sobs. “Because if I don’t hear them, I’m gonna explode.”

  Her eyes are searching mine, pleading to make this better. Just begging me to fix this.

  “It was like… it was like…” I take a deep breath. “It was like I was listening to some scratchy classic vinyl and then suddenly you appeared, and my whole world went digital. It’s like life shifted. Everything became real. You make me real, Ronnie. You started my heart. You are the missing piece of me. We’re partners, Ron. Soul mates. We are, I swear it. But—” She cries into my chest again and it stops me dead. I can’t stand to see her cry. God, it hurts me to see her cry.

  “I can’t listen to the ‘but’, Spencer. I can’t. Please don’t make me listen to the ‘but’. I just want you to say you love me.”

  “I love you, Veronica. I’ve always loved you.”

  She looks up at me, her eyes all red and watery. “Then be with me! Please!”

  Fuck, her misunderstood sadness breaks my heart. “I want to say I’m with you, baby. I’ll never leave you. But I can’t say that. Not yet.”

  “Why?” She’s a mess now. Her tears are spilling down her face like mad.

  She pulls away and I bring her back. My hand comes up to cup her face. I tilt her chin up so she has to look me in the eyes when the words come out. “Because Veronica Vaughn, I’m guilty. Every single thing they said about me on TV that year I met you…” I pause to try and gauge her reaction. But I have no idea what she’s thinking, so I have no choice, I just have to say it. “Every single thing they said about me was true.”

  I can hear her stunned swallow and then she wriggles until I let her go.

  And I do let her go. I have to let her go.

  “It’s all true, Ronnie. So if you need this banker to get what you want, then go do that. Because I am this guy, Veronica. This guy right here, this guy who did all those things all those years ago. This guy is me. And you’re absolutely right. This guy doesn’t deserve you.”

  Chapter Eight

  I have to walk away, so I turn towards the door.

  “Spencer,” she whispers.

  “Veronica, I’m sorry, OK? I just need to go.” I pull the screen door open and walk though, taking the steps two at a time, and then walk briskly around the corner of her building. When I get to the alley I lean against the wall and bend over to try and calm my racing heart. “Fuck!”

  She probably heard that. I stand back up and walk down the alley towards Mountain Ave, then cut over and take Jefferson back up to Maple where my truck is parked at the shop. If she stays in that apartment at least she’ll be close to me.

  When I get to the truck I just sit there, trying to process what my life will be like without her around the edges. Frayed. That’s what my life will be. Even though she wasn’t in my life all the time, everything I did, everything I do, I do with her in mind. Every decision I make. Every person I spend time with. Every cent I spend. The first thing I do is ask myself, is this good for us? Will this make Ronnie and me stronger in the end? Will this make her happy?

  I punch the steering wheel and my knuckles split open. “Fuck.” My phone rings and I pull it out of my pocket. “Ford,” I say. “On my way, dude.”

  I hang up before he can say anything and start the truck, then I head west and cut over to Mountain Avenue. Ford lives down the street from Ronnie’s family house, in an old Victorian across from City Park.

  He’s waiting on the corner of Mountain and Frey so I pull over. He’s dressed up in dark jeans and a black t-shirt, looking like a cat burglar. He pulls the door open and slides in. “Where’s the fucking van? I have shit—” He sees the case on the floor. “Well, that does not explain why you’re driving your personal vehicle while we’re doing a job, Spencer.”

  “I just wanted to, Ford. No reason.” I follow the road past his house and look hard at it. “You sneaking out tonight? That tiny wife of yours cracking the whip already?”

  He flashes me a sardonic glare. “Right. The fucking dogs will hear the vehicle and have a hissy fit if you came to the house at night.”

  “Dogs?” I almost choke. “Since when are you an animal person?”

  “I’ve always loved pets, Spencer,” he says with a grin. And then he laughs that diabolical laugh of his and growls, “Don’t be an idiot. They’re not really dogs, they’re employees. Security. I paid forty grand apiece for these fucking dogs. One wrong look at Ashleigh or Kate and they eat your face off.”

  “That does not sound safe, Ford.”

  “I’m half kidding. We had them trained and bonded specifically to us while we were in New Zealand. They are the best-behaved employees I’ve ever had.” He stops for a moment. “Aside from Pam, of course. I cannot allow Ash or Kate to be hurt because our past is rushing up to greet us. I wanted to send them away, but I’d go out of my mind with worry if I didn’t know where they were at all times. So I got dogs. They have service jackets, they can go anywhere a human can and they are trained to work as a team. One dog attacking you is frightening, two are formidable.”

  “I’d just give her a gun, Ford. Quicker and no shit to clean up.”

>   “She has a gun, Spencer. But when you’ve got a baby in your arms, a gun is not practical.”

  “Security guard?”

  “I have those too, but they need to stay hidden. Ashleigh has no idea what we’re really into, Spencer, so keep your fucking mouth shut. I’ve got it all under control. We’ve moved into a normal house and I want them to have a normal life.”

  “Nice house, by the way. How the hell did you get all that shit organized from New Zealand? You’ve only been back for like three days.”

  “Pam.”

  “That personal assistant chick? Must be nice, eh? Have her to take care of things for you.”

  “It is, Spence. You know the Biker Channel wants you to get one, right? They’ve been hounding me about it for weeks. They say you hardly ever answer their calls and ignore the emails completely. You should just hire someone to take care of that shit.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “Maybe I should. I could use the help. How close do you need me to be, Ford?” I hang a right on Elizabeth and then cut up north to where Drake’s shop is.

  “Just about the same place we were before. I didn’t get the long-range option for this bot. That model was out of stock.” He pulls the case up from the floor, keys in his passcode to disengage the locks, and then pops it open. When I glance over he’s got a tablet in there and some smaller things tucked away in a bulging pocket on the inside of the lid. He fires up the tablet and then accesses some app on the home screen that controls the bot. A camera pops up in a new window, but the image is black.

  “Night vision is standard,” Ford says. Like I was actually wondering how much he pays for the fucking robot add-ons. “OK, here we go.” The bot screen flashes green, and then some details start to emerge. “We’re under a workbench, I think. Hold on, let me look around a little and see if this is acceptable. You might have to tell me where a good place will be, Spencer. A place that’s in plain view, but not near something he needs every day. I don’t mind losing the money I paid for this should things go bad. But I certainly don’t want this bot in the hands of that stupid fuck Drake. He will blab all over about it and even though I had Merc cover my tracks, Homeland will be called in and they will immediately know it was me. I’m already on a list for hacking.”

  I wince. We’re doing this job because I asked for it. “Maybe we should just pull it, then, Ford? Maybe I should just eat the money and drop it. He won’t last, I’m not really worried about him taking my business, I’m just excitable. I’m an artist. People buy my bikes because I made them. And he’s not me.”

  Ford just stares at me. “Who are you?”

  “I’m serious, Ford. Let’s just come back tomorrow and—” A knock on the glass stops me cold and Ford’s eyes dart to the window behind me. “Please tell me that’s not the pigs,” I say without turning my head to look.

  Ford laughs under his breath. “It’s Drake.”

  I turn in my seat so I can see and then slide the window down about an inch. “Can I help you?” I ask, peering out at him.

  He’s not as tall as me when I’m standing, so when I’m sitting in a big-ass truck, he looks minuscule. He’s such a skinny little fuck.

  He scowls at me, squinting his eyes as he tries to make out if it’s really me behind the tinted glass window. “Shrike? I should’ve known. You’re out here like a loser, spying on me? What the hell?”

  “I’m sorry,” I say politely. “Do I know you?” Ford chuckles off to my right. “Do we know this rat, Ford?” I lower the window another half an inch. “Oh, wait,” I say sarcastically. “Yeah, we know this asshole. He’s the poser who moved into my town, pretending to be me. You’re not even worth my time, Fonzie.” I catch the sound of the little bot being maneuvered from the tablet.

  Drake squints his eyes and gives those thick black frames a push up his nose as he considers this. “Then would you care to explain why you’re sitting outside my shop in the middle of the night?”

  “We’re smoking a doobie, Drake. And you’re killing my fucking buzz, so shoo, little man. Just shoo.”

  Ford laughs again.

  Drake sniffs the air, trying to smell me out. “You’re not smoking in there.”

  “It’s that new odorless blend out of Boulder, you idiot. Now scram.”

  Ford bursts out laughing, “Scram,” he mutters. “What are you, a character in Scooby-Doo?”

  I look over at him and laugh. “Yeah, scram. That’s such a great word, isn’t it? So underused.” I turn back and Drake is still there. “Drake, if you have an opinion on the merits of the word ‘scram’, let’s hear it. Otherwise, get the fuck out of here.”

  He does that little two-finger to the eyeballs gesture, pointing at me, then his peepers, and I laugh like a girl.

  “I’m watching you, Shrike. I know you’re up to something and if I catch you around my shop, I’ll take care of business.”

  I roll the window back up as Drake walks away. “You get it parked, dude?”

  “We’re set,” Ford says. “He really is annoying. I’m pretty sure he’s not your guy though, Spencer. He’s so stupid. How the hell did he get past your security outside the showroom, let alone move seven bikes through the back fucking door? It makes no sense. This guy is backed, that’s for sure. But he’s not the one who stole your shit.”

  “Maybe not. But he’s part of it, whether he knows that or not. Whoever is behind Drake Cikes is my guy. And I’m not sure who that might be, but I’m gonna figure it out.”

  I pull the truck forward, do the double honk to Drake—who is still standing in the alleyway entrance to his shop—and turn right at the next street to go back towards town.

  Ford lets out a huff as he thinks in silence for a few seconds. “I might’ve been wrong earlier. This might be something after all. And I’m with you on figuring it out. Maybe it’s not connected to the trials coming up. Maybe Drake is just some guy who fell into some money and decided to give you a run for yours. And maybe those missing bikes are just bad luck on your part. Some past employee getting revenge or some shit like that.”

  I look over at him as I wait for the light at Mountain and College.

  “But somehow I doubt it. I think whoever is backing Drake is absolutely the one we should be looking at about the missing bikes. But I also think that somehow, some way, all of this is tied to Rook.”

  “Rook?”

  “Yeah,” he sighs. “They might be sending messages. And your bikes might’ve just been the initial greeting.”

  We sit in silence as I make my way back down Mountain to Ford’s house. I pull over at the corner of Frey, and he opens the truck door. “Just keep an eye out, Spencer. And for fuck’s sake, don’t do anything stupid without calling Ronin and me first.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, if we do something stupid, we should definitely do it together.”

  “That’s what teams are for, brother.”

  “Later, dude. Tell your little dudettes I said hey.”

  He flashes me a two-finger salute and slams the door closed. I watch him walk up to the house and when he gets to the porch, the light flicks on. Ashleigh appears and for a minute I expect them to fight. I really did figure he had to sneak out to do this shit tonight. But she leans up on her tiptoes and plants a kiss on his cheek. He smiles broadly, and then ushers her back inside and the porch light goes dark.

  I sigh.

  How ironic is it that Ford has a fucking family before the rest of us? And even Ronin has Rook. At least he has her.

  Me? I have no one.

  Chapter Nine

  I park the truck over by the shop and walk back down to Ronnie’s alley once again. I know this is probably the wrong thing to do, but I can’t help myself. When I reach the parking area below her apartment, I lean against the wall of the building next door and I dial her number.

  She’s awake, I know that for sure, even though it’s almost one AM and all the lights are off save for the flickering bluish tint that comes from a TV. It rings. One… if she doesn’t pick
up I’ll leave. Two… if she doesn’t pick up, I’ll go knock on the door. Three… her shadow walks across in front of the apartment window.

  “What do you want, Spencer?” she answers curtly.

  I swallow down the feelings her words evoke. Because it’s crystal clear that she’s really done with me.

  “Hey, uh…” I clear my throat. “I’ve been thinking, ya know. How you work so hard and everything.” I pause to see if she’ll say anything. But all I hear is her soft breath. “And I was just talking to Ford. You know how he has that assistant who’s been working for him in LA?”

  “Spencer, get to the point, OK? I’m tired.”

  “Pam, right? You remember me talking about Pam? She works for Ford long-distance. You know, she does everything virtually. They almost never see each other.”

  “I’m hanging up.”

  “Bombshell, please.” I hear a smile on the other end, I know it. “Just calm the fuck down for a minute, OK? I’m trying to tell you something.”

  She walks past the window again, then pulls the sheer curtains aside and peeks out. The moonlight hits her face and illuminates her blue eyes for a second before she drops the curtain and walks away. “Just tell me then, Spencer. I’m tired.”

  “Pam works as Ford’s personal assistant. She runs his email and shit. Schedules things and, well, shit like that. You get it?”

  She huffs. “Spencer, I know what a PA does, just fucking spit it out. What’s Pam got to do with this conversation?”

  “Ford and Pam go way back. Since college. But the Biker Channel has a budget for a PA, so she got a raise when he started working for them. They have a small budget for each of us. Rook included. And they’ve been on me for a while to hire someone since I ignore them most of the time. And I was wondering if you’d like the job?”

  She laughs. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “It’s not a huge deal, my budget is only forty grand a year—”